Consequences
by SuperMel2012
Summary: Murtagh returns empty-handed after the Battle of the Burning Plains. The king is not happy.
1. Chapter 1 - Flight

My first ever fanfic! Please give feedback if you can. I do not own Inheritance or any of the characters.

p.s. Just a warning, there is a lot of torture in this especially ch. 2 and later. So please don't read if you're not into that sort of thing.

Ch. 1: Flight

Wind and rain whipped viciously around Murtagh and Thorn as they flew swiftly towards Uru'baen. After the battle of the Burning Plains, Galbatorix sent a messenger instructing them to return immediately. His orders allowed them no food, little water, and only short breaks when Thorn was unable to keep flying. At this rate, it would take only two more days to reach the capital, assuming they didn't drop dead from exhaustion first.

Dread knotted in the pit of Murtagh's stomach as they flew through the storm. The king was surely furious at him for letting Eragon and Saphira escape. He knew the punishment would be severe, and only hoped that Thorn would escape the worst of the tyrant's wrath. It had been Murtagh's decision alone, after all.

 _No_.

He started as Thorn's voice echoed suddenly in his head. Until now, the dragon had refused to open his mind to him, still bitter at his decision to let the other dragon and her rider go free, even with Thorn's protests.

 _No, what?_ He replied, confused.

 _The king will not see this as only your decision. I did not encourage your actions, but I did not stop you either,_ he explained sullenly. _I expect he will punish us both._

Guilt washed over him at his partner's words. He knew Thorn was right, and couldn't blame him for his resentment. Already he was regretting his decision. Internally, he berated himself. How could he be so stupid? He knew the consequences of defying the king, of showing mercy to his enemies. He knew Galbatorix would have no such mercy on them, so what had possessed him to act so foolishly? A dull ache settled into the back of Murtagh's skull as he contemplated this question.

 _Because he is your brother,_ Thorn offered. But the answer didn't satisfy him.

 _And Morzan is my father,_ he retorted. _What does it matter if we are related? Why should that motivate me to sacrifice my freedom and safety for his sake? It's not like we grew up together,_ he thought bitterly. His thoughts were racing too quickly as he struggled to reign in his emotions. The rain battered hard against him, contributing to his growing headache.

 _Perhaps, but he is also your friend. . ._

He thought about this for a moment, torn between feelings of betrayal and loss. _He was my friend_ , he replied. _But he rejected me_. He thought back to their battle, and Eragon's response to the revelation that they were brothers. _"We are nothing alike,"_ he repeated Eragon's harsh words in his head. _And he's right._ Bitterness tinged his thoughts as he remembered the past year. Memories of being dragged back to Uru'baen, tortured, and forced to swear fealty to Galbatorix flooded his mind. Shame and self-hatred welled up inside of him. _I never wanted this. I tried to fight back. I_ _ **tried**_ _… I thought I was strong, but in the end I guess I'm pretty worthl-_

 _Stop this!_ Thorn roared across their bond, cutting through the chaos of emotions inside the young rider. An angry growl escaped the dragon's throat, partially drowned out by the torrent still raging around them. _You had no choice. Had Eragon been in the same situation, he would have broken even sooner than you. You put up a valiant fight against a monster, and you are still defying him._

A long silence hung in the air between them. As they flew the storm began to abate. A light drizzle was all that remained as Murtagh took a deep breath to calm himself.

 _I'm sorry_ , he said, breaking the silence at last. _I should have listened to you sooner._

 _Hmmpf_ , Thorn huffed. _Yes, you should have._

Murtagh smirked. Despite his dragon's tone he could feel the bond between them healing.

 _Though perhaps I was too hasty in criticizing your decision,_ Thorn added. _This isn't just about Eragon. If you had taken him back now, condemning him to torture and enslavement, you would have left a piece of yourself behind. A piece you cannot afford to lose._

Murtagh nodded. _Perhaps you are right, but I still regret it. I acted too hastily. Now you and I will suffer instead_.

Again, Murtagh remembered his earlier torture. No food, daily beatings, and mental probing had slowly worn him down. But worse than that were the hours spent in his dark cell, waiting for the next torture, wondering where his friends were and whether they would come to rescue him. Back then Thorn was still unhatched. He thought he would go insane all alone in that cell. Fear creeped into his heart at the possibility of going back to that place.

 _Yes,_ came Thorn's reply, interrupting his thoughts once more. _You and I will suffer. But we will suffer together…_

Murtagh sent a wave of gratitude through their bond at the statement. At least this time he was not alone.


	2. Chapter 2 - The King's Wrath

Already had the second chapter written up, so I'll go ahead and post. Again please review!

Ch. 2: The King's Wrath

"How dare you return empty-handed!" Galbatorix shouted furiously, hurling curses at his apprentice.

Murtagh stayed as still as possible, head bowed. As soon as he and Thorn landed the guards had arrived to drag him to the throne room, throwing him roughly to his knees in front of the king. Thorn had been led away to the dragon's keep. Murtagh did not want to risk reaching out to him now, lest the king intercept his mind and take offense. An audience with the king demanded one's full attention after all.

"You worthless, insolent cur!" he continued, "I took you in, raised you as my own, provided you with the finest tutors, clothing, and food. And how do you repay me? With one betrayal after another!"

The king's normally pallid face was quickly turning beet red as he ranted on. Stringy, black hair hung over his bloodshot eyes, sweat beads dripping from his forehead as he worked himself into a fury. "I thought I had made myself clear before, Murtagh. I will not tolerate rebels and traitors. You will not continue to defy me with impunity."

Suddenly he felt a strong, malicious presence brush up against the edge of his mind and he instinctively threw up his mental defenses. But the king glared down at him.

"You are mine, Murtagh. Or did you forget?" he questioned, threateningly. Murtagh fixed his gaze on the hard, grey-stone floor, wishing he could be anywhere else. He shoved down the feelings of helplessness and indignation that were surfacing. If he tried to fight it, the bastard would simply use his true name and force him to submit. He willed himself to relax and allow the probe through.

He was rewarded with a painful jab as it started tearing through his mind. He clutched his head, groaning as it ripped out all his memories from during and after the battle. He hated the sense of violation as his every thought and feeling were laid bare for the king. _I truly am his slave_ , he thought bitterly. The king chuckled, overhearing the thought, even as he replayed the memory of his fight with Eragon and Saphira, his decision to let them go, arguing with Thorn, and his regret soon afterwards.

 _At least your dragon still has some common sense._ The king's voice reverberated through his mind. He finished his search and relief swept through Murtagh as the probe was removed. The feeling was short-lived.

 _You purposely let them escape,_ Galbatorix confirmed quietly. Murtagh didn't dare look up. The king would surely punish him now, most likely by sending him to the dungeons for a few days to be whipped, beaten, and starved. He shuddered, remembering his last visit there. Upon his return to Uru'baen over a year ago the king had broken his mind in those dungeons and forced him to swear oaths of fealty. He was not keen on the idea of returning.

Rising from his throne, the king stared down at the young man before him. Lifting his palm, he muttered something in the ancient language.

Murtagh gasped as pain burned through him like a white-hot poker, his eyes rolling back into his head. Before his captivity, he might have clamped his mouth shut, determined not to give his enemy the satisfaction of hearing him scream. But he had since learned that petty defiance only fueled the king's rage, so he allowed his agonized screams to escape as every nerve in his body was set aflame. He had not had time to close his mind before the king began his torture, and he knew Thorn could feel it too. He tried to prevent it from relaying across their bond, but it was too much and he could not focus. The pain wracked his body in agonizing waves, and soon both dragon and rider were suffering. Galbatorix held the spell for several more minutes, until the young rider's voice was hoarse from screaming and his body tired from convulsing. When he finally released it, Murtagh gasped painfully. He found himself laying facedown, drenched in sweat, and trembling at the king's feet.

A hand gripped his head, pulling him up by his hair. The king glared down at him. "You know how I feel about disloyalty, Murtagh." Galbatorix spat out the words in his face. "What did you think was going to happen? That I would just let it go? That there would be no consequences for your disobedience?"

Murtagh struggled to escape the man's grasp, fear coursing through him. "I see now that I've been too lenient with you." The king threw him roughly back to the ground, raising his hand up once more.

The searing agony tore through Murtagh's body again as he collapsed back onto the floor. The pain was unbearable, with each wave worse than the last. His back arched as his screams increased in volume and intensity. He desperately grasped around him - clutching at the floor, his clothes- looking for something, anything that might ease the pain. But nothing could save him. He ran out of air and gasped, only to lose his breath again with the next scream.

After nearly ten minutes Galbatorix finally released the spell. Involuntary tears streamed down his face as he shuddered violently.

 _Please,_ his thoughts raced, _no more. Please._

Galbatorix leaned down towards him, speaking quietly to his apprentice. "This is just the beginning. I thought you had learned your lesson when I punished you for running away. Apparently, I underestimated your foolishness. This time I will make sure to break you properly."

The king raised his palm, unleashing his wrath on Murtagh once more.

This time the king did not release the spell. He continued the torture until unconsciousness closed in around Murtagh. He welcomed the darkness with relief.


	3. Chapter 3 - Chains

The next chapter! Many thanks to those who've replied in the reviews, I really appreciate getting any kind of feedback, even just to know if you are enjoying the story! As far as where this is going, I tend to write everything in huge chunks but all spread out. It's hard to explain but I've got parts of each chapter written out and I finish them as it comes to me and sometimes move stuff around. Anyways, it won't be long til the next one (ch. 4), which will be a short but very painful chapter for poor Murtagh (I'm a bit of a sadist when it comes to my fav. characters, ah well). I am thinking there will be 5 or 6 chapters overall, BUT I'm considering doing a sequel focusing on the aftermath of the king's treatment and possibly throwing in some non-canonical plot twists and bringing in other main characters. Any thoughts? Please let me know what you think about the story so far! Hope you enjoy. : )

Oh, fair warning: There's no torture in this chapter, but there is, like, two swear words. Hope that's okay...

Ch. 3: Chains

Murtagh groaned, waking up to a massive headache. He knew he was laying on his stomach since he could feel the hard, stone floor beneath him. Cracking open his eyelids, he struggled to remember why his head hurt so much. He looked around, trying to get his bearings. It was dark but his eyes began to adjust.

 _Where am I?_ He thought to himself, groggily.

 _About time you woke up_ , came the terse reply in his head.

 _Thorn?_ He asked, suddenly snapping awake. _Where… - How did…- What happened? Are you okay?_ He was still disoriented, but worry clouded his thoughts.

 _I'm fine young one,_ his dragon answered, sending waves of reassurance through their bond. _You passed out from the pain, but the king still was not satisfied_. _He had you brought here. You've been out for nearly two days._

 _The king…._ He repeated after his dragon, beginning to remember.

Lifting his head, he looked around at the tall, cylindrical chamber. Stone and chains surrounded him. A heavy black door blocked his exit, steel bars covering its tiny window. Iron pegs, chains, and shackles studded the walls around him. There seemed to be no other occupants, but there could be no mistaking the location.

 _The dungeons_. Dread curled inside of him as he remembered the last thing the king had said to him before he passed out. _"This time I will make sure to break you properly."_

Panic rose inside him as he struggled to his feet, ignoring his body's aching protests. Desperately, he lurched towards the door, only to come crashing back down hard onto the stone floor. Pain seared through his knees at the impact.

 _Calm down_ , Thorn warned him. He didn't want his rider to hurt himself even more than he was already.

Murtagh looked backwards to discover his ankle chained to a peg in the middle of the floor.

 _Shit,_ he swore. He took a deep breath, trying to center himself. His dragon was right, panicking would do him no good. Losing control of his emotions is what landed him here in the first place. Calming himself, he tried to summon a spell to cut loose the chain. He wasn't too surprised when nothing happened. He didn't feel drugged but the king must have blocked his magic somehow.

He sat up again, attempting to get a better look at his surroundings. The cell was relatively large. The chain around his foot would allow him a little less than three feet of movement in either direction – about a quarter of the way between the middle of the cell and the door, as he'd just learned the hard way. The walls towered a good twenty feet above him and he could make out a dull steel grate embedded in the ceiling, revealing the open night sky.

 _Great,_ he thought, remembering the storm from his flight back to Uru'baen. _I'll be exposed to the elements._ _I hope it doesn't rain again…_ At that thought he suddenly noticed how dry and hoarse his throat felt. He hadn't had water since they returned. _On second thought, maybe rain wouldn't be so bad._

 _Food would be even better_ , answered Thorn.

 _Aye,_ he replied, his stomach growling painfully. After their battle, the king had ordered them home immediately, with no breaks for food. He had allowed Thorn to hunt twice, not wanting to risk the dragon losing weight (after all he was already at a disadvantage against Saphira in size), but Murtagh had not eaten in nearly a week.

Just then a large, squealing rat streaked across the floor and into one of several drainage holes lining the wall, trailing breadcrumbs behind it. Breadcrumbs? With wide eyes Murtagh looked around closely.

 _There!_ He shouted in his mind, slightly startling Thorn at the outburst. Laying near the far wall was a half-loaf of moldy, stale bread. But his excitement was short-lived as he realized it was much too far away for him to reach with his leg chaining him down.

 _Damn it_ , he cursed, frustration coursing through him again. _Just my luck,_ he sighed. Falling abruptly onto his back, he sought a distraction from his grating hunger.

Through the opening above, Murtagh could spot the twinkle of distant stars.

 _A cloudless night…_ Murtagh noted.

… _perfect for flying._ Thorn finished the thought, morosely.

A sullen silence permeated the moment.

 _Why?_ Murtagh asked after a while. _Why do we always end up like this? Chained down and suffering, with freedom and happiness just out of reach._ Bitterness was creeping into his thoughts again. Trying to distract himself from this too, he thought back to the glorious months he had spent roaming the countryside after he had escaped the castle for the first time. It was one of the few times he could really remember being happy. Besides flying on Thorn, he could think of no freer feeling than galloping on horseback across endless plains, of sleeping out under the stars, of bathing in a stream, or sparring with a friend.

 _A friend…_ and frustration returned as his thoughts turned to Eragon. Murtagh had never quite forgiven the other rider for failing to rescue him when he was recaptured, though logically he knew it wasn't his fault. _He thought I was dead_ , he reminded himself. Still, he couldn't help feeling a bit disgusted by the boy's attitude the last time they met. _How could a real friend ask me to commit suicide so casually? The bastard. . ._

 _To be fair, I don't think he meant it personally._ Thorn interjected.

Murtagh snorted darkly, _How much more personal can you get than telling someone to kill themselves?_

 _I just meant that the blue rider does not seem to want you or I dead in particular._ Thorn replied patiently. _He believes it would serve the greater good._

 _Still,_ Murtagh continued, stubbornly, _for such a suggestion come from him…_ it had hurt Murtagh more than he wished to admit.

 _Best not to dwell on it. It cannot be unsaid, but perhaps the future will bring some reconciliation between the two of you. You are brothers, after all._

 _Yeah, sure, right after I finish ensuring his enslavement to the king's will, I'm sure we'll just tussle a bit and make up,_ he replied sarcastically _. Then we can go out for a night on the town, maybe start a bar fight and come stumbling home drunk, arm in arm, singing about unrequited love._

Thorn mentally raised his eyebrows, bemused. _Well that was oddly specific_. _Honestly, I'm surprised you can keep up a sense of humor in a place like this._

 _Shut up,_ he responded playfully. But a small part of him hoped Thorn was right. In truth, Murtagh missed his friend. Eragon's carefree attitude, innocent and humorous disposition, and even his stubborn naivety had endeared him to the younger boy. Murtagh knew he could not bear to see his friend crushed beneath the yoke of enslavement.

 _That little git had better appreciate my sacrifice in letting him escape,_ Murtagh thought with sudden annoyance. _I swear if he ever allows me to capture him, I'll punch him straight in the face for making all my suffering be for nothing._

He could sense Thorn's amusement through their bond.

 _What?_ Asked Murtagh innocently.

 _You still want to protect him, though you have a funny way of showing it. You are more brotherly than you give yourself credit for._

Despite himself, Murtagh allowed a small smile to tug at his lips. He was surprisingly pleased at his partner's observation.

But he changed the subject abruptly. _You know, one thing still bothers me._

 _Hmm?_

 _The king knows our true names_ , he pointed out. _Why not just force us to swear more oaths? Why even bother with the torture, besides just an initial punishment. Wouldn't he rather have us out on the battlefield right now._

 _Swearing oaths did not prevent you from betraying him before,_ Thorn responded. _You found a loophole in his orders last time, and you might find one in the future. I imagine his aim is to paralyze us with fear. He wishes us to give up before we even try to look for a way out... He wants us-_

 _-to be hopeless._ Murtagh finished the thought sullenly. _And he won't give up hurting us until we are..._ Again, the king's words rang through his head, _"This time I will make sure to break you properly."_

Silence followed. What would they do now?

 _We have only two options before us._ Thorn said, answering the unspoken question. _We can give up hope of ever escaping this hell, in which case it would not be unwise to take Eragon's advice and end it ourselves. Or we can hold out hope that one day we will be free. If we choose hope, then we must survive at all costs_ _until that day._

Once again, he found himself impressed by his dragon. Thorn had never known freedom, having been born in captivity and raised under the watchful eye of a tyrant king. He had been nothing but a tool for Galbatorix since the moment he hatched, yet he had never lost a sense of himself. His seemingly innate sense of optimism shone through, as always.

 _Well, we can't all be sullen and brooding like you. Its dreadfully boring._ Thorn lightly jabbed.

Another, almost imperceptible smirk upturned one corner of the red rider's lips.

 _And yet you hatched for me anyways,_ he responded in kind. _The fates must have known you'd need a realist for a partner to keep you grounded. Otherwise you'd fly so far above the clouds, you'd collide with the sun._

Their banter continued for a while, and both were grateful for the distraction. But soon the sun peaked out from behind the grate in the ceiling, and exhaustion swept over them both. Despite the sunlight, Murtagh found himself slipping into a dream.


	4. Chapter 4 - Suffering

This one ended up being a bit longer than I expected, but overall I am happy with it. To the reviewers: Thank you so much! And yes, I was just thinking about that. I might try to incorporate the sword more in the sequel I am planning (haven't decided yet). But until then I threw a little something into this chapter. You also gave me a pretty good idea for the next chapter, so thanks. : )

Warning: LOTS of torture. Physical and psychological. In fact I think I'll bump the rating up to M for this fic b/c of this chapter. I warned you all I was a sadist :D

Ch. 4: Suffering

The whip whistled through the air and Murtagh did his best to hold his tongue as pain jolted across his back. The guards had arrived not too long ago, waking him with a swift kick to the gut. With little explanation, they had stripped him and left him kneeling on the floor and at the mercy of the king. Now Galbatorix towered behind him, gripping a long, braided cord. Murtagh wondered briefly why they had not strung him up.

 _He probably just enjoys watching me squirm_ , he thought in disgust. Another lash cut across his thoughts and he clenched his teeth, willing himself to stay silent and still. He would not give in so easily. A scowl disfigured the king's face as Murtagh continued to resist.

 _Your defiance is futile_ , Galbatorix's voice reverberated painfully inside Murtagh's head. _You bring nothing but needless pain on yourself, and on your dragon_. Suddenly, he could sense that his partner was in agony too. The bastard was using his torture spell to hurt Thorn.

 _Leave him out of this!_ he yelled mentally, glaring over his shoulder at the king. _He had nothing to do with my decision._ But Galbatorix ignored his pleading. The whip flew through the air again with a harsh crack as the king continued.

 _You are both to blame. The next time you conspire to disobey me, you should remember that._

 _Bastard,_ he responded viciously inside his head.

The king only picked up his pace. Murtagh clenched his fists, gasping as the lashes rained down across his back. He could sense Thorn trying to send him strength through their bond. But the partner of his heart had only so much to give. Sickening waves of pain rebounded wildly across their bond as Galbatorix continued to torture the young dragon with magic.

Murtagh could no longer will himself to stay silent. His screams echoed off the stone walls as he was brutally whipped. Yet Galbatorix's arm did not tire. His endurance was almost impressive. _Please,_ Murtagh thought desperately to himself. _Please, let it be over soon. Let me pass out._ But the king would not allow it. Instead, he hovered on the edges of his mind, forcing him to stay awake. He could no longer feel Thorn, who must have blocked their connection to spare him more pain. The king continued until Murtagh could feel himself going numb and he worried there might be permanent damage.

Finally, Galbatorix relented. Murtagh lay on the floor in a bloody heap, gasping as exhaustion swept over him. But the king would not allow him a reprieve from consciousness just yet. A presence brushed up harshly against his mind. Murtagh tried to withdraw, but the king chased him down, pulling out memory after memory, pitting his emotions against him. One by one his friends flashed before his eyes, as the king turned his memories of them into nightmares.

 _~~~ His brother stood before him on the Burning Plains, hatred filling his eyes. "I am nothing like you!" he proclaimed. Eragon stabbed him through the heart, twisting their father's sword into him. As he reeled in pain, a hand gripped his shoulder and turned him around. Nasuada stared into his eyes, her beautiful, dark skin shining in the light of the fires burning all around them. Suddenly, her eyes widened in shock as she looked down between them. He could feel himself gripping something, and he followed her gaze, expecting to see Zar'roc's hilt. He realized with horror that the sword was lodged in her abdomen. He could not loosen his grip on the hilt as she struggled against him, a pained grimace twisting her face. "How could you? How could you betray us?" Her eyes glassed over and her face suddenly disappeared. He lost his grip and fell backwards. He was surrounded by them now. Eragon, Tornac, Nasuada, Ajihad, Arya, the whole Varden, every man he'd killed in battle, every innocent he'd been forced to kill by the tyrant king. All towered above him, staring down accusingly._

 _He shouted up at them. "I never wanted this. Please, I tried!" He didn't know what he was trying to prove, only that guilt was overwhelming him. They stared back at him silently, with unforgiving eyes. The fires around them flared up impossibly high, and Murtagh struggled to breath. The people around him screamed horribly as their skin began to melt off. The smell of burning flesh assaulted him. He could not look away. He could not close his eyes. ~~~_

The vision finally abated, leaving him violently retching on the dungeon floor.

"Your so-called friends abandoned you," the king said. "They didn't come for you before, and they won't come now. You are nothing but a traitor to them." Murtagh gasped, his throat burning. He tried to ignore the king's words, but he couldn't help but feel the painful truth in them. Now that he had faced his brother in battle and killed members of the Varden, he knew he could never go back to any of them as a friend.

"You are alone," the king continued. "But you don't have to be." His voice suddenly softened. "Stand beside me, and we could end this childish rebellion. We could rebuild the riders, and start of new age of prosperity. We could have peace for once, and you would be the hero who helped create it. You and Thorn would be loved and adored throughout the kingdom-"

 _Don't listen to him, young one._ A tired voice interjected.

 _Thorn_ , he thought weakly. He must have reopened their connection once he realized what was happening.

 _He is a liar. You -_

External rage cut across their bond, silencing them both.

 _You will pay for that._ Galbatorix intoned dangerously, unleashing his spell of agony on the young dragon once more. Anger rose inside Murtagh as the king began to torture Thorn again. He could not stand feeling his partner suffer, but he could not move or fight back. Instead, he lashed out mentally. He charged recklessly at the king's mental defenses. To no one's surprise he was easily deflected, but Galbatorix paused to look down at him in astonishment. Never had Murtagh been brazen or stupid enough to go after the king's mind.

He glared down at Murtagh. "You continue to prove yourself worse than useless," he stated with derision. "If that doesn't change soon, I might just decide you're not worth keeping around at all. Better you were dead than a liability, after all."

Murtagh's eyes widened. That possibility had not occurred to him. _No. You wouldn't…_ he began, though he was unsure.

"What, you think yourself irreplaceable?" The king asked mockingly. Galbatorix raised his palm again, slowly moving towards him.

Fear suddenly coursed through Murtagh. _He's not really going to kill me?_ he thought. But the man continued his advance. Weakly, Murtagh tried to crawl away, though he knew it was useless. The chain still wrapped around his ankle soon stopped him short, though he struggled against it.

"Pathetic," the king taunted, following after him. The king's hand hovered over him thoughtfully. "I have complete power over you now," he goaded. "I could easily kill you."

Murtagh waited, his head bowed. He clenched his eyes shut in anticipation. _Is this how I'm going to die? Chained up like a dog?_ He felt sick.

But the killing blow never came. Instead, a heavy boot crashed into his side. He tried to roll away, but he could not escape as the next strike landed painfully. "On second thought," the king spoke with glee, "perhaps I will only kill Thorn. If I can't use him on the battlefield, he is worthless to me anyways. And I'll get the added satisfaction of watching you suffer."

The man viciously kicked him over and over. Soon the sound of bones cracking joined Murtagh's painful cries and began to cough up blood. Mad laughter echoed around the chamber as the king landed one final kick to his face, knocking him unconscious.


	5. Chapter 5 - Survival

Hi guys, sorry I've been away so long. Schools making it hard to prioritize my writing. But I've got at least this chapter and most of next chapter typed out! This is mostly just Murtagh brooding in his cell, but I threw in some flashbacks to kind of flesh out his relationship with some other characters.

P.S. The dream reference might seem a little odd but I promise it'll make much more sense in the sequel I'm planning, so stay with me here! As always, please leave comments if you can : ) Also, just to remind you all, I do not own any of these characters.

Ch. 5: Survival

Pain and silence. That is what fills Murtagh's every waking moment. Pain during his time with the sadistic king, and crushing silence in the intervals between as he waits for the next bout of torture. The bastard had somehow cut off his mental link to Thorn, though he could still feel his partner's pain when Galbatorix hurt them.

Murtagh had no idea how long he had been in the dungeons, though it must have been at least a week. After his most recent session, he had finally been allowed to eat. He was barely conscious when the guards came to unchain and drag him to the other side of his cell, where he was propped up against the wall. He had choked back the bowl of thin soup too quickly, burning his throat. The shredded skin on his back grated horribly against the stone wall, but the need for food was more pressing. Before they left, the guards tossed some old clothes at him as well, but he could barely move, let alone dress himself. So now he was curled up on top of them, shivering against the cold night air.

Much worse than the hunger or cold, however, was being left alone with his own thoughts. Without Thorn here to distract him, he couldn't stop himself from dwelling on Galbatorix's words.

" _Your so-called friends abandoned you…They didn't come for you before, and they won't come now. You are nothing but a traitor to them… You are alone."_

Murtagh knew the king was right. Eragon and Arya had all but forgotten him once they thought he was dead. Nasuada had been too busy, coping with the death of her father and her new post as the Varden's leader. But even if the war ended, even if the Varden won, he knew they could never be together. He was the king's right hand and the son of Morzan. He would never be one of them.

Murtagh curled tighter into himself as a familiar self-hatred washed over him. _I'm nothing but a curse_. Painful memories replayed themselves in his mind.

 _~ He was being chased by the city guard as he galloped through the streets of Uru'baen. "Close the gates! Close them!" He heard the captain of the guard shouting from behind him. He hurried his pace as the gap between the heavy wooden doors began to shrink. Somewhere behind him he could hear his mentor shouting. He turned just in time to see the arrow pierce Tornac's armor. He looked on in horror, but his friend shouted at him "Get out quickly, go now! GO! RUN M-" Another arrow pierced his throat, stopping him short as he fell from his horse. Murtagh turned quickly and made for the exit, slipping through just in time. He galloped on and didn't look back, but tears flowed freely down his face. ~_

 _~ Barely a year later, he knelt before the king. A young Thorn, newly-hatched, was cradled in his arms. He shuddered as the king used his true name to force them both to swear oaths of loyalty. The process was long and exhausting. He was so weak that day. ~_

 _~ Eragon faced him from across the battlefield, a look of betrayal etched on his face. Murtagh listens as his "friend" encourages him to sacrifice himself. Then, Eragon's expression morphs into one of revulsion as Murtagh reveals their shared heritage. "We are nothing alike!" Murtagh clenched his fists tighter around his father's sword, turning away. ~_

 _Misery_.Perhaps Eragon was right after all.

But he remembers Thorn's words: _We can give up hope of ever escaping this hell…Or we can hold out hope that one day we will be free. If we choose to pursue hope, then we must survive at all costs_ _until that day._

 _Yet,_ Murtagh muses to himself, _if I don't give in…_ The king had come dangerously close to killing him once already. How much further could he push the man before he decided Murtagh wasn't worth keeping around after all?

He laughs out loud, then grimaces as the sudden movement sends a jolt of pain through him. _Here I am thinking Eragon is right, that I should off myself, yet I'm afraid the king might do it for me?_ He supposed it was a bit different, choosing your own end versus having it forced upon you.

Either way, something would have to give eventually. He could not continue to defy the king…

He cast about for a distraction, since his current line of thinking was giving him a headache. He thought back to the dream he had his first night in the dungeons. He tried to recall the details.

 _~A red sky. A marsh, tall grass. Lots of mud. He was walking through a marsh, fighting against the muddy dirt and grass. He was going somewhere… He remembers a willow tree on a hill.~_

Murtagh didn't dream often, but this one had seemed different. So vivid. He remembers when he was little, his mother telling him to take careful heed of dreams. _They tell us about ourselves, and sometimes the future_ , she had said.

 _So, what does mud say about me? That my life is going to shit?_ He thought sarcastically.

But perhaps the willow tree meant something. What was the old saying? _Though a tree be rigid and tall, a heavy enough wind will snap its stubborn branches. But the willow bends, and does not break._

 _Bend but don't break_ , he thought to himself, _but can I even manage that?_ He clutched his side lightly, feeling the broken ribs there. _I'll have to break eventually, if I am to convince the king to stop this torture._

This wasn't the first time he had broken a bone. He remembered the time as a young teenager, maybe thirteen, when a nasty fall from a horse had broken his arm. He had only just started learning to fight with a sword, and was distraught, thinking his good arm would be weaker now. But Tornac had patched him up, reassuring him that, _a broken bone mends back stronger than before_.

 _Perhaps,_ he mused darkly to himself _, but not if I'm dead_. If he was going to survive this, he would not be able to simply bend without breaking. He would have to break and somehow come back stronger than before.


End file.
